by Katie Roman
“Blame the king who sent the duke into this city. Show Frederick and Robert that we are strong. Together we will take back what is ours, and we begin tonight. I am Queen of the Thieves’ Guild. I am the Death Dealer. I am Glenbard’s own noblewoman, and I am asking for your allegiance!”
The roar of the crowd surrounded Grace once more and the people began chanting, “Long live the Queen!” Grace stalked back to Kay and stood by the pirate’s side, crossing her arms over her chest and putting on an air of ferocity, though inside she feared what would happen next.
“And what does Her Majesty wish to do now?” Kay leaned over and asked.
“We have to convince them to fight for Drake as we promised. We also have to drive the duke out and reclaim Glenbard.”
“And how do we start?”
“By finding ourselves some allies.”
Nineteen
The Duke of Escion was supposed to meet his spy, but the fool girl hadn’t come. Two days went by and still there was no word. He’d heard rumbling from the Lane that something happened, and he noticed the beggars were awfully quiet in the lower city. The discontent that had roared over the past few weeks quieted to a purr, yet no word came out of the Lane. Robert needed Kara to tell him why.
Robert moved through the halls toward his private chambers. It was past one in the morning and the castle crier had only just declared all was well, but Robert didn’t feel well. He didn’t like what was happening around the city.
Redbank prison was running out of room, but each time protests broke out across the city, he was forced to arrest more people. The king insisted all troublemakers be locked up at least until after the start of the spring offensive. So Robert hardened his resolve and ignored the protests and cries for more food and fair treatment. He did what he had to for the greater good of Cesernan. He knew he was right in his path, but he still felt unsettled.
He walked from the castle’s library to his own chambers one floor up. Since King Frederick declared martial law in Glenbard, the castle had become Robert’s dwelling. When he left the city for his spring offensive in the Nareroc Islands, he had no idea who would take over as chief magistrate of the city. He didn’t really care. He looked forward to leaving the muck-ridden city to rot.
He moved through the dimly lit halls with ease, carrying a candle that provided a meager light for his journey. Along the walls were portraits of former magistrates, kings, and important noblemen in Cesernan’s history. Their eyes followed the duke as he moved along, his boot heels clicking softly on the tile floors. There was no other sound to be heard since Robert dismissed the maids and footmen for the night, and his personal manservant was stationed at Redbank.
Robert finally arrived to his chambers. He fitted his key into the keyhole and pushed the heavy wooden door open. The room should have been dark, but instead he found several candles lit and placed upon his desk. Seated at the desk was a small figure dressed in black, holding a small white flag laid out across her lap.
She looked like her father with the same watchful gray eyes, small ears, and upturned nose. Her hair was no more than dark blonde stubble, growing in awkwardly after a slipshod shaving job. It was hard to believe this was the daughter of one of the most beautiful women to ever grace the court of the king. Robert noted a bit of black fabric tied to her belt. Frederick claimed he had picked her up in Arganis masquerading as the Death Dealer, and this fabric must be the proof she showed people.
“Your Grace.” She smiled. Now he could see Deidre in the young woman.
“Miss Hilren,” Robert said curtly. He remained planted in the doorway. “You are supposed to be on Nareroc as punishment for your treasonous acts.”
She shrugged, never letting her smile fade, and Robert felt the muscles in his jaw tighten in response. He’d received word that Prince Drake and a band of mercenaries, suspected to be from Sera, had staged a prison break on the hard labor camp on Nareroc. This was why Robert put up a harbor blockade and extra guards on the city gates to keep traitors such as Grace Hilren from coming back into Glenbard. Obviously the rats found other ways in.
“Would you like some wine?” She held up a flagon, shaking it slightly so he could hear the sound of sloshing liquid.
“I would like some answers.”
“Well, to begin with, I came here to tell you that your Rogue’s Lane spy has been officially dispatched.” She put the flagon on his desk.
Robert suddenly felt very tired. If this was true, his eyes and ears around the city were put out and he would have to find another spy. He remained unmovable in the doorway, trying to determine if Grace was lying to him. She watched him carefully, judging his own response to the news. Her mouth was a hard line now, the smile having faded. She didn’t look particularly gleeful at talking about the death of someone else, even an enemy.
“I suppose it should come as no surprise,” Robert replied with a shrug, trying to keep his manner as aloof as possible. “Kara ran rampant around the city. I’m not sure how much longer I could keep her in my employ anyway.”
Grace arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. The silly girl probably knew he was lying. Certainly Kara was a handful sometimes, but her fear tactics kept things relatively quiet on the Lane. If she hadn’t been in his pocket, the riots and protests would have been much more violent.
“So you’ve killed my girl on the Lane and now you come to me with a white flag of peace.” He pointed to the white flag in her lap. “Is the daughter of my deceased friend coming here to curry favor with the crown?”
“I’m here to broker an agreement. Give me the keys to the grain storage so I can disperse rations to the starving citizens of Glenbard, and release the wrongfully imprisoned from Redbank. In exchange, I will quell the uprisings that are brewing against you through the city.”
“So this is about my son Jonathan, then.”
Grace suddenly went stiff in her chair. He could see her fingers twitch at her side. To her credit, she kept her face blank, but Robert knew he hit her where it hurt.
“This is not about Jack,” she said, keeping her voice even. “Though you tricked him and then wrongfully charged him. But no, this is not about Jack,” she repeated, shaking her head. “This is about the fifty-some citizens you threw in Redbank for no other reason than they were hungry and angry. They were praying to the gods for help and you broke the Temple laws by sending in your goons. Release them, and I can help restore your tarnished image.”
“No.”
His answer didn’t faze Grace. She sat just as stoically as she had been when he arrived. “Then I suppose we have nothing left to discuss tonight.” She stood from her seat.
She was a small woman, barely hitting his shoulder. It was how the Hilren line grew. The women were short and narrow, and the men were short and muscular. They were a stubborn breed, some showing ferocity and cunning. Robert remembered Grace’s grandfather, dead years before her birth. He was a fierce warrior, though not without compassion. He protected the Arganis coast from pirates and judged his people fairly. It seemed all of this had skipped his son Daniel and passed directly to his granddaughter. He never would have guessed it from Grace’s childhood.
“I remember you from when you were a little girl. You favored blue silk ribbons for your hair and liked nothing more than to ride in front of your father on his great war horse.”
A ghost of a smile danced on her lips before disappearing. “You once brought me a kitten as a gift when I turned five. Stanley was the fattest mouser we had until he died a few years back.” She smiled a genuine smile now. The harsh lines around her mouth and forehead disappeared, transforming her into a fine looking young woman.
Robert felt the corners of his mouth tug upward into a smile. “I was good friends with Lord Daniel, you know.”
“But you didn’t come see us when he died,” she answered. She didn’t sound angry, not even hurt, just weary. “Good night, Your Grace.” She grabbed her flagon of wine and moved to go past him.
Robert remained planted
in the door. “I could call for the castle guards; have you arrested.”
She held up her little white flag. “Ah, yes, but you’re a soldier. Even you wouldn’t violate this. I will be walking out the front gates.”
Robert stepped aside. He’d violated the Temple laws at Frederick’s insistence, but Frederick wasn’t here to tell him to ignore the white flag. He didn’t want to arrest Grace anyway, not tonight at least. She was Daniel’s daughter, after all. She was harmless. Stupid, even a little bold, but harmless. Who was going to listen to a misguided girl like her?
He followed her down to the first level and signaled for his guards to stand down when they passed them. Grace walked with confidence, not getting lost on her way to the main stair. It was clear someone in the castle’s employ had let her in or provided her a map. He would have to question his staff in the morning.
Grace exited the castle and took the path through the courtyard. It was freezing outside. A bitterly cold wind was blowing in from the east. The duke’s breath came out as a little white cloud before his face. The guards at the gate house stopped Grace.
“Let her out,” he ordered.
“Your Grace, is that wise?” one of the men asked.
“It is already past midnight. What damage can she do? Let her pass.”
From where he stood on the path, Robert couldn’t make out the guard’s face, but he saw him shrug. He and his fellow guard pushed the gate open, allowing Grace to waltz through.
Beyond the gates a crowd of people stood silently, bearing torches and waiting. Robert’s blood ran cold, understanding now why the guards didn’t think they should open the gates. Thankfully, the amassed crowd did not charge the gate. They just waited. Grace held up her white flag and threw it in the dirt. Robert couldn’t be sure, but it looked like she squashed it into the frozen dirt road with her foot. As the crowd cheered, she disappeared among them.
The flame of the torches danced about as people raised their arms and cheered for Grace, and Robert felt his heart skip a beat. She would have been able to soothe the city if he had agreed to her terms. Now, with proof that he declined them, they went mad at the prospect of rebelling. Robert clenched his jaw. It was no matter. He had his army and personal guard, as well as half of the city Guard in the city. If need be, he could even have the bulk of Cesernan’s army in Glenbard in just a matter of days. If Grace thought she would incite rebellion in Glenbard she was mad, as well as a disgrace to her name. He now knew that Grace Hilren wasn’t harmless, and the next time he saw her he would drag her to the noose for treason.
Twenty
“He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of peace,” Grace told her second in command as they met privately in her chambers at the Angel Inn.
“Did you expect anything less? He’s a murdering bastard who imprisoned his own son.” Kay Lansa settled into a chair that had been brought up from the common room. “You took an insane risk even daring to go to him. You didn’t know for sure that he’d honor that stupid white flag.”
Grace never would have imagined that Kay would ally herself with her, much less end up working as her second now that she was Queen of the Thieves’ Guild. Still, Kay had proven to be indispensable in the three days since Grace killed Kara and assumed her new role.
“He took a knights’ vow to honor the code of chivalry and the rules of war, so if the white flag did not move him, nothing would. Besides, I thought he’d want to spare lives, seeing as how his soldiers are supposed to be making war in the spring.” Grace kicked off her boots and flopped down onto the bed. Light from her candles made the shadows on the ceiling dance. It helped to calm Grace down after the turbulent few days.
“Well, you thought wrong.” Kay’s face moved into Grace’s line of sight, blocking out the shadows dancing on the ceiling. “At least you showed him how mighty and united the Lane is. That was a very nice touch, stomping on that white flag.”
Grace pushed Kay away and sat up. “Everyone is already anxious to start fighting him. I felt like he needed to see it with his own eyes.”
Kay returned to her seat, tucking one leg up under her body. She looked at ease with the whole situation, and Grace wished she could borrow some of the former pirate’s easy confidence. She cracked her back and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and then put her head in her hands and sighed.
“Any word on Ridley and Thom?” Grace asked through her hands. She rubbed her eyes and looked up.
Kay shook her head. “I’ve been spreading the word that Kara is dead and the Lane is a safer place to be, but still not even a whisper as to their whereabouts. We are going to have to bury Marcus soon, unless you wish to do as we do on Nareroc and burn the body.”
After Kara cut Marcus’s throat, Grace sent his body to the priests of Ciro to prepare him for burial rights. They cleaned him and did their best to hide the throat wound. Grace put his body and casket in his old house on the Lane for people to pay their respects, but she couldn’t keep his body under guard forever while they waited for Marcus’s family to come out of hiding.
“I wanted them to be able to say good-bye,” Grace answered, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“I know, but you’ve a lot of work to do, and you can’t keep a constant guard and vigil going for Marcus.”
Grace buried her face in her hands again. “I know, I know.” Her voice came out as a frustrated mumble. She lifted her head and looked over to Kay. “I will take the guard for the rest of the night and if there is no word at sunset, we will make arrangements for a burial tomorrow morning.”
“You really should get some sleep. I can take the guard.”
Grace shook her head and straightened up. “I will sleep after first light. You can take my shift over then.”
~*~*~
Grace drifted off on her watch. Visions of fire, rot, and blood flowed across her mind’s eye. She woke suddenly, clawing at unseen attackers.
Pale light streamed in from the kitchen window. Grace remembered coming into the kitchen sometime in the night to get away from Marcus’s corpse for a few minutes. She sat down at the table, and then she remembered nothing else. Kay either never came to relieve her of her watch, or else she just left her sleeping. In either case, Grace was annoyed at being allowed to sleep with her face down on the table.
She sat up, stretching and rubbing sleep from her eyes, and heard someone shuffle around in the sitting room. She froze and listened carefully for a few moments, and then someone sniffed. Grace grabbed her dagger from her belt just in case it was not Kay, though whomever was in the house must have had ample opportunity to slit her throat.
She crept to the kitchen door and peeked into the sitting room where Marcus’s body was laid out. A man with dark stubble on his head sat next to Marcus’s body, holding his hand and stroking his face. He wore a torn black cloak over his clothes. Grace relaxed to see him and made to leave.
“I know you’re there, Grace,” the man said, finally turning to look at her. He sported stubble on his face and his exhausted eyes were red-rimmed from crying. He stood, holding out his arms.
Grace sheathed her dagger and went over to embrace him. He smelled of dirt and sweat, but it was a comforting smell. “Thom, I am so sorry I could not save him.”
Thom rested his chin on the top of her head. “I know you tried.”
Grace’s chest tightened. I didn’t try hard enough, she thought. She pulled back first but still held on to his hands, as though letting him go would make him disappear. “Where is Ridley?”
“I left her in hiding. I wanted to be sure this wasn’t a trap set by Kara.”
Grace led Thom by the hand to the kitchen, beckoning him to sit at the table. She poked at the almost-dead fire of the hearth, adding more kindling to bring it back to life, and then set a kettle on and searched about for tea leaves.
“When did you come in?” she asked.
“A few hours ago. I wanted to wake you, but you didn’t even stir when I came in.” He accepted
a stale roll from Grace. “I heard you buried Kara?”
Grace didn’t want to meet Thom’s eyes, so she continued to poke around at the fire. Thom loved Marcus and was entirely loyal to him. She didn’t want to upset him further by saying she had buried Marcus’s killer, but he already knew the truth. He wouldn’t respect her if she lied now, and she needed his help.
“I felt I had to. I wanted to spare her, to question her, but I went mad when I saw her kill Marcus. She would have killed Kay too, then me. I only knew that I had to stop her.” Grace’s hands shook and she put the poker aside, daring to meet his eyes.
Thom didn’t look angry; his eyes were soft and sad. He frowned and scrunched his eyebrows together. “So because you killed her in anger, you felt you needed to bury her in peace?” Grace nodded. “I am glad you’re still the same Grace I remember. How do you keep vandals from her grave?”
“Only Kay knows where she is buried. Well, Kay and a priestess of Kamaria. Her stone is unmarked. Kay says the Nareroc gods punish those who violate the dead, even their graves.”
“Will you take me to it?”
“Do you plan on spitting on it?”
Thom shook his head and smiled. “Kamaria bestows good luck on those who forgive their enemies.”
The kettle began whistling and Grace removed it from the fire using a towel. Thom got up and helped her with the cups and tea leaves, and the two sat down at the table with their tea. It was as though it was just a normal day on the Lane.
“We plan on burying him tomorrow,” Grace said, shattering the normalcy of the moment. “Can you bring Ridley before then?”
“I will bring her tonight. It’s safest to move after nightfall.”
Grace nodded her understanding. “Where have you been hiding?”
“With Nathaniel Moore, of all people. He has become an unexpected ally.”
Grace raised an eyebrow. “I heard he was beaten mercilessly by Kara and her followers before being indefinitely removed from duty.”
